


The Vows

by MWolfe13



Series: 31 Days Of Writing 2020 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Marriage, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26986345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MWolfe13/pseuds/MWolfe13
Summary: Hermione and Fandral discover a strange piece of magic that leads to unintentional consequences.
Relationships: Fandral (Marvel)/Hermione Granger
Series: 31 Days Of Writing 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969543
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: 31 Days of Writing Challenge - Fall 2020, Cast the Dice 2020, Marvelously Magical Bingo 2020





	The Vows

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MMFBingo2020, CastTheDice2020, and 31DaysOfWriting
> 
> MMFBingo2020: Square I4- Fandral/Hermione Granger  
> CastTheDice2020: Yhatzee!- Accidental Marriage  
> 31DaysOfWriting: Sept 30 Challenge

Hermione left Thor and Hogun in the command tent in search of Fandral, only to roll her eyes when she spotted him. The man was currently using his charms on some of the refuges, a cluster of Vanir women giggling around him. Hermione knew Hogun would grumble if he saw the scene, but she supposed it was better than the tear-stained scared expressions these people had worn before they’d been liberated by the strike force sent from Asgard. This was the first stop in their campaign to free Vanaheim from the bandits and marauders that had swiftly invaded the realm. 

Fandral grinned when he saw her coming his way, spreading his arms out in welcome. “Ladies, may I introduce Lady Hermione. She’s the Midgardian Ambassador for Asgard. Her intelligence and power will help us free your people in no time.”

Hermione kept a pleasant smile on her face, nodding as the woman cried out their gratefulness. She struggled not to glare at Fandral’s cheerful face. He _knew_ she hated being the center of attention. “My apologies, but Fandral is needed elsewhere. Please, feel free to visit the area we’ve set up for food and other supplies. I’m sure a hot meal would be welcome right now.”

They bid their goodbyes, sending Fandral adoring glances and thankful ones her way as they did. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Really? Hogun will beat you bloody.”

“I was only flirting,” he defended. He shook his head, his eyes traveling in the direction they’d gone. “I wasn’t going to do anything with them. Don’t you think they deserve to have some distraction from their situation? If only for a moment?”

She relented, turning to watch with him. They were huddled around the large fire, accepting steaming bowls of stew from the warrior on mess duty. “As long as it stays flirting, Fandral. Lady Frigga won’t be happy if we leave here with a bad reputation, because of you.”

Fandral stepped up next to her, bumping his armored shoulder with hers and sending her a smirk. “Trust me, my reputation never disappoints.”

“I walked into that one,” Hermione grumbled in disgust. 

He clearly heard her words, laughing at her tone. “What does the lovely Hermione need from me at this moment? I know you didn’t come and interrupt my hard work for nothing.”

Hermione turned to face him. “There are pockets of concentrated magic in different parts of this forest. I’ve detected at least five, and Thor wants them looked at in case there are traps set up we haven’t triggered.”

“Thor doesn’t want you going off on your own,” Fandral inferred. His lips quirked up in amusement when she pouted.

“Honestly, it’s not like I can’t take care of myself.” She tugged on a loose curl in frustration. “And then Hogun had to go and agree with him! I swear no one gives Lady Sif this much grief.”

He shrugged. “Sif has been kicking ass for centuries. Don’t worry, soon enough we’ll not care if you land yourself in a marauder pit.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she responded dryly. She turned in the direction of the thick treeline. “Let’s get to it then. I don’t want to apparate into a trap, so we’ll have to hike to each of them.”

They made their way through the dense forest, coming across the first site of magic quickly. It was one of the invaders' weapons, the blade eerily glowing bright against the darker landscape. Hermione grimaced and waved her wand over it, and waiting for the results. “It should be fine for us to pick up. It isn’t cursed.”

Fandral bent down and secured it. “I doubt our esteemed enemies were one for cursing objects. It’s more likely they paid for this weapon or stole it.”

“You’re probably right,” Hermione agreed. “If they had someone who could use magic, surely they would have brought them out by now.” She weaved her arm through his. “I have a feeling all the spots of concentrated magic will be weapons. I’ll apparate us. We’ll be done quicker that way.”

Like every Asgardian she’d met so far, Fandral doubled over slightly as he fought the urge to spit up. Hermione left him to it, knowing he’d be alright in a few seconds. There wasn’t a weapon waiting for them, nothing was. The magic was emanating from a tree, particularly a hole in the middle of the trunk.

She pursed her lips, debating what to do. She’d seen movies like this before. She knew what happened to the heroine that blindly stuck their hands in things they weren’t supposed to. 

Seeing no other choice, she closed her eyes and reached in. She tensed, waiting for something bad to happen. But all her fingers encountered was a cube-like object, wood by the feel of it. She opened her eyes and slowly pulled it out, warily eyeing the tree for any signs of aggression. 

It was a box, smooth on all sides, save one. The top square was decorated with random grooves. There was no discernable shape, and when Hermione tried to open it, she found there was no lid. “A puzzle box,” she murmured.

“That’s not a weapon.”

Hermione didn’t look up at Fandral, barely noticing when he leaned in close enough his head could rest on her shoulder. “See these grooves? You have to shift them around until the correct picture forms. It won’t open otherwise.”

“It will if you smash it,” Fandral mused.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Thor. Go get your hammer of destruction. I’ll work on it in the meantime.”

He chuckled, “Always quick on the response. We’ll try your way first.” He sat down against the tree trunk, content to play with his dagger while she worked.

* * *

Within ten minutes, Hermione knew this was going to be a challenge. She hunkered down on the ground, leaning against the closest source of warmth she felt. She vaguely noticed that there was armor at her back, but she was entirely focused on the puzzle before her.

“I think it’s a rune,” she said suddenly.

“Why do you think that?”

The words were said against her ear, causing Hermione to startle. She looked behind her, breathing in sharply when Fandral’s eyes bore into her own. She didn’t think she’d ever been this close to him before. A few strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, a common occurrence for him as he tended to run his hand through it. Hermione had the urge to shift it back over his head, a strong one. She cleared her throat, focusing on his words. “What?”

He didn’t say anything at first, his eyes roving down her face before meeting her eyes again. “Why do you think the puzzle is a rune?”

“Right.” Hermione looked down at the box in her hands. “I’ve managed to get these two separate lines into place on the left and right. I think it might be Mannaz, Hagalaz, Ehwaz, or Dagaz. They all have different meanings, so I’m still unsure what this is, but it wasn’t trapped.”

Fandral shrugged, the armor on his chest pressing more against her back as he did so. “Only one way to find out.”

He had a point. Hermione tried Hagalaz first but quickly realized there were too many parts for the single line that crossed the two longer ones. She let out a relieved sound before moving onto the next. That rune was often used in destruction, and it was particularly powerful if used correctly. Ehwaz and Dagaz were much the same, the pieces shifting higher like the two triangles that completed Mannaz. 

Hermione slowly shifted the pieces into place, thinking about the meanings as she did so. Mannaz was a rune of the people, often signifying both connections and individuality. This rune was steeped in tradition, not aligned with good or evil. It just was. But it was upright and not reversed, so Hermione didn’t think anything bad would come from it.

There was a sharp click; it clashed with the natural sounds of the forest. The lid slid to the side, revealing aged parchment, rolled up to fit into the box. Hermione carefully took it out, placing the box on the ground. She unrolled it, pouting slightly when she found a series of letters she could only vaguely understand. She recognized it as Old Norse right away, and while Hermione had learned to understand it from the older Asgardians that still spoke it, she was a long way from being able to read it.

“All that for some words?” Fandral shook his head, narrowing his eyes as he looked at it. “That doesn’t seem worth the trouble.”

“I can’t read it, so I wouldn’t know.”

He sent her an amused glance. “And here I thought you knew everything.” He laughed when she rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to read it to you then?”

Hermione looked at him incredulously. “You know Old Norse?”

“It’s an integral part of our military, so yes, I’m quite fluent.”

“I’ve been on this campaign for months, and I didn’t even know that,” she grumbled. She gave him the parchment, shifting so that her side leaned against his chest instead. “So?”

“Impatient,” Frandral murmured but spoke up. “Þú megeigir eiga mik fyrir ek tilheyra til ek sjálfr. En hvile vér báð ósk þat, ek gefþúr at sem er minn til gefa. Þú megeigir kommanð mik fyrir ek em freer maðr.”

Hermione listened to his words, translating it in her head. _You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me for I am a free person._

“Ek loforð til þú at pat munu munu þinn augu inn í sem ek brosið á hverjum morgni. Ek loforð til þú minn lifandi ok minn deyjandi, hvergi jafnt inn þinn kare. Ek munu munu shielðr fyrir þinn aptr, ok þú fyrir minn.”

 _I pledge to you that it will be your eyes into which I smile every morning. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield at your back, and you for mine._ They were reading someone’s love confession. It was pretty; maybe the person writing it had been a warrior. Hermione sighed, letting herself relax more against Fandral. She was feeling quite content to be close to him.

“Ek munu eigi rógburður þú, né þú mik. Ek munu heiður þú hér að ofan allr fleiri fólk, ok segja nei ókunnugur okkarr kvartanir.”

 _I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honour you above all others, and tell no stranger our grievances._ Hermione felt alarm run through her though she had no desire to do anything about the feeling. Those words were more familiar. She’d heard them used in the traditional weddings she’d gone to in the wizarding world. Some were simply said as vows, but the Purebloods took it a step further and used them with magic. 

Fandral was frowning now, and he was quiet for a moment before speaking again. His words were grit out, like he was fighting himself. “Þessi er minn heit til þú. Þessi er marriager ór jafnir.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, but then she felt it. The magic surrounded them, a burning force encompassing the two of them. She couldn’t stop herself from saying the words in her mind. _This is my vow to you. This is a marriage of equals._

Hermione gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. She could feel something happening with her magic, her essence reaching out to Fandral. His arm wrapped around her, Hermione closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his armored chest. 

The feeling slowly faded until it was a low thrum under her skin. Her mind was slowly connecting the pieces, but she refused to believe she’d been too stupid to see it before. “What did we do?” she whispered. 

“Married each other, it seems,” Frandral answered. “This binding magic is traditional. Only the royalty of Asgard use it anymore, though it was common across the Nine Realms before I was born.” 

Hermione looked at him, noticing the dazed quality to his voice. He was staring ahead, his free hand laying over his chest. “Fandral…” She swallowed before continuing, her throat suddenly dry. “Can this binding be undone?” For her people it was impossible, but perhaps the Asgardians knew a way…”

Fandral looked down at her, his voice grave as he said, “I don’t know, Hermione. It’s never been done before.”

**Author's Note:**

> Si si, I know. The entire Old Norse section was butchered, I absolutely can't say no Old Norse was hurt in the making of this story. (Seriously. I didn't even use Google Translate, and it still came out bad) BUT! I am learning, and as soon as I feel I have a good handle on the language, I'll replace it. When will that be? Who knows. 
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr and Twitter: MWolfe13


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